


The Black Cat and the White Wolf

by thatguywhowrites2098



Category: RWBY, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:58:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatguywhowrites2098/pseuds/thatguywhowrites2098
Summary: Blake Belladonna had run from everything she loved, but she didn't expect to run so far she'd end up in another world. Bumbleby





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Re-uploaded beacause AO3 decided the fic needed to be an unreadable wall of text and so it took out all the spacing.

A/N:This story is based on two fic’s I was working on about two months back, the first a Witcher/Game of Thrones crossover, and the second a bittersweet post volume 3 Bumbleby reunion fic. Neither of which I think are particularly good. However, somewhere along the way I got this idea in my head while working on the two of them and here we are. This story takes place post Volume 3 for RWBY and post Blood and Wine for The Witcher, and will be Geralt/Yennefer, Dandelion/Priscilla, and Bumbleby. Maybe a hint of White Rose in there.

 

Blake Belladonna was tired, cold, and hungry. It had been 2 months since Beacon fell. Two months since Adam had ruined the life Blake had built for herself with an act which not only left scars on Blake but someone very dear to her as well. Yang was a warm, accepting, exceptionally kind human who lost her arm because of her relationship with Blake, something Blake would never be able to forgive herself for, and she was certain Yang wouldn’t forgive Blake either. So here she was, alone cold and on the verge of collapse, in the remains of Vale, searching for someone who she knew was long gone. But trying to track Adam out of Vale would mean leaving her self-imposed exile, something she felt she didn’t have the right to do.

A howl in the distance signaled the coming of yet another Beowolf pack, the fourth she had encountered this day alone. She could hear them approaching her position, snow crunching under their clawed feet, but she didn’t make ready to fight them. She was too tired. She hadn’t gotten any sort of meaningful rest in days, trying to avoid the nightmares. So instead she fell to her knees, staring at the right half of Ember Celica on her wrist before closing her eyes, her last thoughts before she fell unconscious were of golden hair catching fire and lilac eyes turning to red.

_I’m sorry._

-0-

To her great surprise, she didn’t wake to the pain of being eaten alive, but to the warmth of a crackling fire instead. Cautiously she inspected her surroundings, immediately spotting a long red katana resting on the ground beside a woman with long black hair, who was warming herself beside the small fire, staring intently into the flames.

Noticing Blake’s movement, the woman looked to her, but didn’t do anything to acknowledge her otherwise. She just stared at her intently with her familiar red eyes. Blake knew her, or at the very least knew of her. She was Yang’s mother, the one who left her as an infant.

“You’re Raven.” Blake said awkwardly. She wasn’t sure how to speak to her. On one hand, she hurt Yang, had run away from her. On the other, so had Blake.

“And you’re Yang’s partner.”

“I… not anymore.”

“And why do you say that?”

“I got her hurt. If it wasn’t for me, Yang would be ok. Adam attacked her because I… care about her.” Blake said, tears welling up as she remembered the look of shock and pain on Yang’s face as she felt her arm being cut away from the rest of her body. Just because she tried to protect Blake. She looked once again to the half of Ember Celica that she had retrieved from the remains of Beacon, her tears running freely as she hugged herself, trying to give herself some small amount of physical affection, some comfort against the guilt.

Raven looked at Blake as the girl began to cry from the blame she had laid on herself, and for the first time since she began watching this girl a week ago, felt sympathy for her. Before, she was just another person in a list that was far too long, comprised of people that Yang loved who had let her down, Raven herself being at the top of that list. Now though, as she watched Blake sob in front of her, she could only feel sorry for her. She moved to comfort her, sitting beside her and putting and arm around her, pulling her close, the way a mother would comfort a child.

Raven would have made a decent mother, she always thought, if it weren’t for the fear she felt whenever she held her daughter. Of course she still felt the love and joy that every mother talks about when they hold their child, but it was buried under a mountain of crippling fear. Fear that she would let Yang down, fear that she would screw her up. But just because Raven had run from her family before her daughter was even old enough to speak doesn’t mean she didn’t care about Yang, and it doesn’t mean she wouldn’t try to make her daughter happy. So she swore to herself that no matter what, she’d convince Blake to go back to Yang.  Maybe, if they repaired their relationship, Yang might be thankful for getting Blake back to her. Maybe, one day, Yang could forgive Raven.

-0-

They sat together in silence for an hour or two before the snap of a twig in the distance caught both the faunus’ attention and Raven’s. Taking her blade from the ground beside her, Raven pulled her mask over her face, getting ready for a fight, motioning for Blake to do the same. Whatever redemption both women were searching for, it would have to wait till they were both safe. Grimm disrupted her teleportation. It would normally be no problem for Raven, but teleporting two people was a different story. She’ waited in the snow for several minutes, side by side with Blake, trying to get a good read on the number of Grimm around them. After giving up on trying to count the approaching shadows, she made the decision to try teleporting anyway. Opening a portal behind her, she grabbed Blake’s arm.

“Hopefully this will get us to safety, but I can’t be sure. If we get separated, met me at the Schnee Inn near Patch.”

“Patch?”

“Yang needs someone there for her who loves her. Too many people have abandoned her. It’s about time someone comes back.”

“What about the White Fang? And Adam?”

“Let me worry about that. Right now we need to go.” With that she pushed Blake through the portal before following after her. The last thing either of them saw were separate unfamiliar landscapes rushing up to greet them, then blackness.

-0-

The creature moved through the land as though it were nothing but mist and shadow. It was hungry. It had not found a victim since it was driven out of its previous host, and it was most certainly hungry. As it moved across the marsh, the other, lesser beasts fleeing before it, it came across an unconscious young girl that, like it, was not of this world. A glance into her mind, and the creature was delighted to see the guilt the girl felt. It had finally found a suitable host.

-0-

Blake awoke to a cacophony of unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells assaulting her enhanced Faunus senses. Getting up slowly, rubbing her aching limbs, she took in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that it was bright out. Instead of the pitch black forest that she had lived in for the past couple months, she was in a brightly lit marsh, the sun shining in the sky, though it was beginning to set. She was by herself, with Raven nowhere in sight.  The setting sun worried her, and even with her Faunus eyesight, she feared having to look for Raven in this bog at night. Seeing no other recourse, she called out for her impromptu travelling companion. Immediately, she heard a strange noise behind her, almost like the marsh water was bubbling. Whipping around, she drew Gambol Shroud, slicing it through the air only to hit… nothing. She was sure that she had heard something. Tightening her grip on gambol shroud, she backpedaled slowly, hearing the bubbling sound again. This time, when she looked for the source of the noise, she could see a growing amount of bubbles rippling from the bottom of the marsh. the next thing Blake knew, a human sized… thing sprung out of the ground in front of her, slashing at her with claws the size of a Beowulf’s.

She summersaulted out of the way, transforming Gambol Shroud into it’s pistol form, she fired three rounds into the monster’s chest, the loud BANG of her pistol almost drowning out the sound of two more monsters rising up from the muck behind her. Rolling to her side, she cursed her luck as she took in her situation.

First, there was the large monster that had attacked her first. It barely resembled a woman in her later years, but it’s skin was blue, it’s face skull like with a long tongue whipping back and forth from its mouth. Then there were the two who had just appeared. They were taller than the… hag… thing, but only because they stood upright while the monster she had dubbed ‘the hag’ slouched down. Like the hag, the two newcomers had blue skin, but theirs were clearly more fishlike than human, scales covering every inch of their bodies and red fins on their head and back.

It was then Blake notice what sounded like a horse galloping her way. After weighing her options for a moment, she decided to take her chances. She bolted towards the oncoming  sound, hearing the monsters sloshing through the water behind her. After running for several minutes, she at last was able to make out a man riding on horseback through the mist.

A cloak was draped over his shoulders, the hood pulled up concealing his face. Two swords were strapped to his back, and Blake was also able to spy the handle of a dagger hidden in his boot. Noticing Blake, the rider halted his horse and dismounted, drawing his sword at the sight of the monsters behind Blake. At least, that’s what she hoped. Blake stopped running once she saw the man dismount. He charged towards her, showing no signs of slowing. He pulled the cloak of and threw it too the ground, giving Blake her first real look at the man. She could make out the man’s white hair and catlike eyes. Clearly that’s why the man wore a cloak. A pang of sympathy ran through Blake, but she quickly suppressed it. Faunus or not, she needed to know if he was a threat. Well, a bigger threat than the one just behind her.

Blake cast a shadow clone outwards towards the man before leaping up into a nearby tree branch. The man gave a sideways glance at Blake’s clone before shrugging and right past it and into the mess of monsters, pirouetting and putting all his weight into a sword strike, cleaving the arm off the large hag. Seeing her ruse wasn’t necessary, Blake dropped down from the tree branch and charged into the fray right beside the stranger.

“Heh. You’re certainly no damsel in distress.” Said the white haired stranger as he witnessed Blake expertly dodge out of the way of a charging fish-man before slashing at it with Gambol Shroud. The hit barely scratched the beast, but stunned it enough for the man to take advantage of the opening and behead it.

“Damsel? No. Distress? Maybe.” Blake grunted as she leapt back, leaving a clone behind to take an oncoming blow from the hag’s remaining arm.

“I dunno, seems like you can handle yourself. I’d bet you’d have this taken care of if you were using a silver sword instead of… whatever that is.” The man said before thrusting his hand forward, sending out a telekinetic blast that threw a fish-man to the ground, allowing him to gut it with his, apparently silver, sword.

“What even are these things? Is there anything besides silver that can hurt them?”

“The big one’s a water hag. Smaller ones are called drowners. If you don’t have any silver, fire usually does the trick.” The man said as he finished the remaining drowner, proving his point by setting it on fire with a blast from his hand. The sweep of fire also ignited the ‘water hag’, giving Blake enough of a reprieve to load Gambol Shroud with fire dust. Aiming her pistol, she fired at its eyes, blinding the creature, before the stranger moved in for the kill, slicing it in half at the stomach. Looking around to see if the coast was clear, he pulled a rag from his jacket and wiped his sword, turning to Blake as he did so.

“Well now that that’s over, let’s get the obvious questions out of the way. Like ‘What’s a young girl like yourself doing in a Koviri swamp?, Especially since she apparently doesn’t even know what a drowner is.’”

Blake looked away for a moment. “I don’t really know how to answer that. All I have are questions of my own, for instance ‘Where’s Koviri?’, and ‘why are it’s swamps apparently populated with drowners and water hags?’”

The man let out an exasperated sigh. “Well this job’s already turning out to be too interesting for my liking. Let’s just start with some more basic questions then. What’s your name?”

“Blake Belladonna. Yours?”

“Geralt of Rivia.”

-0-

Hours later, night had fallen, and, after Blake practically forced Geralt into a futile search of the surrounding area with her for any sign of Raven Blake sat beside Geralt near a small fire as she explained the past few days of her life as best she could. She told him of huntsman and huntresses, beacon, the grimm, and her encounter with Raven.

“So this Raven woman pushed you through the portal, then you woke up in a land you’ve never heard of, fighting monsters you’ve never seen before?” Geralt said, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Yeah. I know it sounds ridiculous-“

“Not really.” Geralt interrupted, “Strange portals and monster attacks. Just another day for me. By the way, you mind if I take you to meet my wife? Maybe Yen’ll stop forcing me to use portals if I bring her proof of how badly they can screw you over.” Geralt’s smile grew into a large grin at the idea of giving Yen proof-positive of the apparently nefarious nature of portals.

“This isn’t unusual for you?” Blake said, surprised by the man’s nonchalant demeanor.

“Well it’s not the strangest thing I’ve encountered. You think this is weird, try fighting a Zuegl that has a screaming woman wrapped in its tentacles.”

“I don’t know what a zuegl is, but for a monster hunter that seems like it would be a usual day on the job.” Blake said, unimpressed.

“Well, the ‘woman’ turned out to be my friend Dandelion wearing a dress. The whole thing was was a plan to seduce a countess that had gotten far, _far_ out of hand.”

Blake giggled, a small smile making its way onto her face. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to relax like this. She thought of her friends. Her family, more like. All the times they had been there for her. All the times they had made her smile. Living in what was left of Vale hadn’t really afforded her any opportunities to let her guard down. The memory of Vale, what had happened there brought her current situation back to the forefront of her mind. Her smile disappeared, and she turned away from Geralt, pain evident on her face.

 Noticing Blake’s apparent sadness, Geralt tried to comfort the girl.

“Hey. You okay? Something the matter?”

“It’s nothing. Just… remembering a few old friends.”

“They dead?” Geralt said bluntly. After all, he had never been accused of being a subtle man.

“No. Well, I don’t know. For all I know, they could be. I left them.”

“Way you explained it, wasn’t your choice, getting sent here.”

“No it…” she trailed off for a moment, sniffling a little, the sudden well of emotions to much. When she had regained a small amount of composure, she continued. “The school I went too, Beacon, it was attacked. Someone got hurt. Someone who means a lot to me. The person who hurt her was trying to get back at me for something I did. He never would have been there otherwise.”

“You said you’re a monster hunter. The school trained you, right? It trains monster hunters?” At Blake’s nod of affirmation Geralt continued. “So this guy who hurt your friend, he attacked an entire school full of monster slayers in training just to get to you? Doesn’t make sense. There are easier ways to get at people than attacking a school full of trained killers.”

“He didn’t do it just for me. There was a woman, Cinder, she summoned this dragon to-“

“So he wasn’t there for just you? He was taking orders? Don’t see how that makes what happened to your friend your fault.”

“He came for me. I would have died, but Yang charged him and-“

“And there’s no guarantee she wouldn’t have been hurt anyway. If the attack on the school was going to happen whether you were there or not, she might’ve gotten hurt regardless. Did she live?”

“Yes, I got her out, but Adam, he cut off her arm!”

“And something worse could have happened if they had just stumbled across each other, and you weren’t there to help her.”

“You don’t understand, she charged at him to save me! She gave her arm up for me!” Blake stood up, shouting. He didn’t get it. What happened to Yang was all her fault. Blake brought ruin wherever she went, and to whoever got close to her.

Geralt was calm, contrasting Blake’s guilt driven outburst.

“And that was her choice. What he did, what she did, it wasn’t your fault, you had no control over it. We all have things we’d like to go back in time and change, but we can’t. We can’t go back and stop horrible things from ever happening. All we can do is try and fix our mistakes, get better, and help each other through the grief. Blaming yourself for something beyond your control helps no one.”

“Then why does it still feel like it’s all my fault?” Blake whispered, her voice barely audible to anyone without Witcher hearing.

“Because something bad happened, and you don’t know how else to feel. My friend Dandelion told me that it’s the heart’s way of making the head acknowledge something it doesn’t want to. At least, that’s the gist of it. What he actually said was ‘The head likes to think, so the heart’s got no other choice but to give it something terrible to think about, because it’s better than moving on like it was nothing.’”

“He tell you that during your adventure with the zuegl?”

“No.” Geralt grew quiet for a moment “After my mentor Vesemir died.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Got no reason to be. That’s another thing you had no control over. You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m doing right by him. Passing on all he taught me, doing things the way he would, that sort of thing. Next time I think like that, I’ll remember the day I gave a kid a long winded lecture about how stupid they’re being.” Geralt said with a small smile, remembering with fondness all the times Vesemir had lectured him as a young witcher in training.

They shared a comfortable silence after that, till Geralt took note of the time, and put out the fire. He got up and made his way to Roach, pulling free a bedroll and tossing it to Blake.

“We should probably get some rest. Got a long ride tomorrow.” Geralt said as he got on his knees and closed his eyes, preparing to meditate.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m in Kovir on business. Once it’s concluded I’ll be traveling back to my home in Touissant. From there, I can get in contact with someone who can help you get back where you came from.”

-0-

The sun shined brightly in the sky, light leaking through the tree canopy. Despite the sunlight,the temperature of the forest was deceptively low, and dropping the further away from the marsh they got. Soon, the two began to head up into the mountains, the trees growing fewer in numbers as the traveled on. After several hours of riding in relative silence, Blake spoke up.

“So this business you’ve got, it won’t take long, will it?” Blake said anxiously. She rode with Geralt on Roach, sitting behind him on the saddle.

“Hopefully should take just a couple weeks. A month, at most.”

“A month?” Blake asked, worry clear in her voice.

“Don’t worry. My… the person I know who can get you home can also send you back in time. Not long jumps, if you’re thinking of saving your friend. I’m sorry. But it should be enough that you’ll get home around the same time you left. Maybe a few days later.”

“Oh… Are you sure she can’t go back further?”

“Not yet, says it makes her too tired. Besides, she’s an empress now. Got other things on her mind than experimenting with her powers.” Geralt said with a twinge of sadness in his voice.

“Is she the reason you’re here?”

“Yeah. Before she came into power, her father invaded pretty much every nation in the northern realms. Thought it would make a good gift to her, I guess. Kovir’s now a vassal of the Nilfgaardian Empire. So when they get trouble, it’s her problem.”

“And so she pushed it of on you. What is it you’re doing?”

“Kovir exports more than a third of the dimeritium on the market. It’s a rare ore, so when they find a deposit, it’s big news. About two months ago, dwarven miners found a massive deposit of dimeritium. Apparently, it’s the biggest anybody’s found in fifty years. Then, a few weeks back, the miners working to get the ore out started to go missing. Rest of the workers stopped doing their jobs, ore stopped moving.”

“I’m guessing the owners of the mine weren’t thrilled by that?”

“Exactly. Koviri king sent a missive to the empire requesting aid, and I happen to be on good terms with the current empress. So, when the empire needs a witcher, I get the job.”

“So what am I supposed to do while you’re off cave diving.”

“Be no diving involved, hopefully. And you’re coming with me.  Not about to leave you alone. Eyes like yours may be normal where you come from, but here they’re an excuse for someone to start trouble with you.”

“They’re not normal. Even back in my world.”

“Those cat ears you’re hiding not normal either?”

“How did you-?”

“Your bow twitched while you were sleeping. Got curious.”

“I’ll ignore the invasion privacy for now. And you’re right. They’re not treated normal back where I come from. Someone with… traits like mine, we get treated like we’re less than human. Like we’re barely above animals. All because of something beyond our control.”

“Know what that’s like. Witchers’re not exactly treated the best, either. That reminds me. Take the cloak from my pack. Put it on, and keep the hood pulled up unless you need it down. Your bow’ll draw attention, and your ears will draw even more. Best keep them both hidden.” Blake did as requested, and went to throw the cloak on her shoulder, but stopped herself before she did so.

“You said we’re going into the mountains. Is there that big of a chance we’ll run into someone?”

“We’ll need supplies. There’s a town along the way we’ll need to stop in at to get them.”

“And my bow really won’t be enough?”

“Bow’s aren’t exactly common where we’re going. It will draw almost as much attention as a pair of cat ears growing on top of your head. These are peasants we’re going to be dealing with. Bows are too fancy for someone traveling through this region. Cost too much money when you’re as dirt poor as these people.”

Blake looked to the cloak in her hands. “Are you absolutely sure I have to wear this?”

“Yes. Something wrong with the cloak?” Geralt asked, looking at her quizzically.

“You threw it in a marsh the other day!”

“It’s dry.”

“It’s covered with bugs. I don’t want it anywhere near my ears!”

“I’m probably covered in bugs too. Tell you what. Whenever I get home, Yennefer makes me take a bath before we do anything... intimate. There’s this oil she puts in the water, kills the bugs. She gives me some for the road every time I leave. I don’t use any of it, but if it’ll keep your ears from becoming lice dens, I’ll boil some water and soak the cloak when we make camp.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Those ears of yours must be uncomfortable enough already, hidden under that bow.”

“Really, thank you. Not a lot of people would show… someone like me kindness, especially when we’ve barely known each other a day.”

“Like I said, I know what it’s like to get spit on by strangers that’ve decided they’re better than you because you look strange to them. Or maybe they’ve heard a few rumors about people like you, and they think that means it’s alright to treat you like a monster.”

“What if you helped give your people their reputation?”

“Depends. There’s almost always some exaggeration in those stories. Witchers can take another man’s child as payment if they want an apprentice. Called the law of surprise. Did it once, myself. Doesn’t mean people should hide their children when I go through their village. I’m not some child snatcher, and I’m betting you’re not like what people think of you either.”

“How can you be so sure?” Blake’s voice was quiet.

“When you’ve been alive for as long as me, you learn to read people, I think you’re one of the better people I’ve met. Sure, I’ve been wrong in the past, but you’ve been kind to me so far, so it doesn’t matter much to me if I am. When you get treated as poorly as I do you don’t make a habit of judging the few people that don’t treat you like shit.” Geralt was quiet after that. It was clear he wanted the conversation to be over, and Blake was happy to oblige him.

-0-

True to his word, when they made camp for the night Geralt soaked and cleaned his cloak, then hung it out to dry while they slept. The next morning, Blake was pleasantly surprised to find the cloak was not only bug free, but deceptively comfortable. Whatever oil Geralt had used did more than clean it. Blake was surprised Geralt had never used it before.  Soon after they woke up, they set out towards the mountain. After several hours of travel filled with pleasant conversation between the two in which Geralt explained more of his world to Blake, the two travelers arrived in the small mountain village of Wilus, which was just a days ride from the mining camp. Geralt urged Roach to the nearby tavern, tying the horse’s reigns to a nearby post then helping Blake out of the saddle.

Geralt entered first, his appearance gaining him more than a few dirty looks from the tavern patrons. Two drunkards spit on him as he made his way to the barmaid working the counter. Blake followed after him, cloak pulled over her head as she did her best to avoid drawing attention. She sat down at an empty table while waiting for Geralt to conclude his business.

Only a few seconds later Blake heard footsteps approach her. Two men took a seat at the table on both sides of Blake.

“What’ve we got here? Why, Shamus it looks like a young wench!”

“Aye, indeed it does Aldrik. Say, did you see what this little miss came in here with? That thing chatting up the barmaid over there?” Shamus said, getting a chuckle out of Aldrik while he reached for Blake’s hood.

“He’s not a thing!” Blake snapped, startling the two men. Unfortunately, they quickly shook off their surprise, not doubt thanks to the alcohol Blake smelled on them.

“Well, whatever he is, it wouldn’t be proper to-“ Aldrik gasped as he tore off Blake’s cloak.

“Her eyes. No wonder she was with that freak. Stay away from us!” Shamus shouted, damn near sprinting away. Blake couldn’t say she was sorry to see those two flee from her, but some small part of her felt a twinge of pain. Not that their judgement mattered much to her, but it did bring back a few bad memories. It seems like her memories, especially the bad ones, were front and center in her mind since she landed in this world. She just attributed it to a strange case of home sickness and tried to focus on happier memories.

Noticing the patrons fleeing from his traveling companion, Geralt made a note to check with the girl later, see if she was ok. Focusing back on the task at hand, he asked the barmaid the usual fare for a witcher, about provisions and jobs that needed doing.

“You’re here about them miners gone missing, yeah?” The woman asked, while staring at Geralt as one might look at a cripple or a three legged dog. At Geralt’s nod, she continued. “Figured, we don’t get a lot of your kind up here. Specially since that mercenary band came through town a few months back. Got the local bandits to pack it up and go home. Not been much need for your ilk since then.”

“Go home? You mean they let the bandits live? Odd, not in the nature of a mercenary to leave survivors. They rely on rumors about their ruthlessness to get work. Mercy doesn’t do good for their reputations.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t. You know what folk do talk about, spreads faster ‘round the rumor mill than stories about another bunch of butchered bandits?” she asked with a sly smile.

“Well news of cheating spouses tends to be a popular source of gossip. Doubt the mercenaries got the bandits to give it up by sleeping with their wives though.”

The barmaid chuckled, before nodding her head no. “The mercenary’s leader sat down for a drink with them. The next morning, they packed up and left.”

“Impressive. The mercenary’s leader, he go by the name Zoltan Chivay by any chance?”

“No. Cant’ remember the bloke’s name. Something right poncy though. Ogroid Von Everfek or summat.”

The Witcher’s expression became unreadable, though his smile grew just a bit. After ordering drinks for himself and Blake, he turned and made his way over to the girl’s table.

-0-

Geralt took a seat in the bench opposite Blake. He silently offered her the cup filled with alcohol. Whatever the drink was it burned Blake’s nose and she pushed it back towards Geralt, equally as silent, lost in thought. Geralt opened his mouth to speak to her, but was cut off by Blake, who spoke so quietly, he might not have heard her over the din of the other tavern patrons.

“There were some men here. They wanted… well, it’s easy to guess what they wanted. I suppose it’s lucky that they ran as soon as they saw my eyes. Still, I’m not sure if I should be hurt or not.”

“With those types, I usually take it as a compliment.” Geralt said with a smile, eliciting a small chuckle from Blake.

“So, what did the barmaid have to say?”

“Mentioned something ‘bout an acquaintance of mine being here a month back. ‘Side from that, nothing special. I’ve ordered a few things that’ll help down in those caves. I’ve also ordered a room here for the next few days. If you want, you can stay here while I finish the job. You certainly deserve the rest.”

“No. I’m… I owe you. I’m going with you in those caves. Besides, you’re my only way back home. I can’t just let you run off by yourself and die on me, now can I?” Blake said with a small smile.

“Well when you put it like that I guess I have to take you with me. Won’t set out till tomorrow, though.”

“What do we do till then?”

“They have gwent where you come from?”

-0-

The next morning, Blake and Geralt set out on foot for the miners camp. An eerie fog rolled through the path to the camp, adding to the sense of dread Blake felt. Once they arrived, Blake felt the eyes of the miners on her as they passed them by. A few of the miners waited near the edge of the camp, stopping Geralt and Blake before the leader wordlessly extended his hand to the witcher, who shook it, before doing the same with Blake. He thanked the two of them and wished them luck before he and his entourage cleared the path and allowed the two of them to carry onward.

As they entered the cave, Geralt pulled a vial from his jacket and downed its contents before replacing it in his pocket. After a moment, Geralt’s eyes gained an eerie glow, the veins on his face grew frighteningly pronounced, and he seemed to move through the cave as though it were brightly lit instead of the dark, damp, bat infested monster den that it was.

They traveled in perfect silence for hours, making camp when they found a large enough spot to lay down and rest. They took turns guarding the makeshift campsite while the other person slept. The next morning, they got up and traveled for a couple more hours, the quiet only disrupted by the clink of Geralt’s amulet, a noise which grew in intensity the further in the cave they got. After traveling in the pitch black for a few more minutes, they found a cave in blocking their path. Something about it seemed off to Blake. It shimmered slightly. Geralt must have noticed that as well, because he pulled a small stone out of his coat and waved it in front of the rocks. The shimmering grew more pronounced, and then a green glow engulfed the rocks. When the glow faded, the rocks and boulders had disappeared, leaving a clear path ahead of them.

With a quick glance to Blake, Geralt pocketed the small stone. “It was an illusion. Somebody with real magical talent is trying to keep people out of here. Want to see why?” he asked with a cocky smirk. Blake nodded, small smile appearing on her face. Ahead of them was a stone wall with a bricked up archway in the middle of it. An inscription in a language Blake didn’t understand was written on the archway. Lighting a torch, Geralt moved towards the doorway, but stopped himself before he reached the door. Crouching down, Geralt  noticed the piece of charred bone sticking out of what he assumed was a pile of ash.

“Burned to death. And the bone’s broken. A fire elemental. Mages like to use ‘em as guards. This one was damn strong, turned this poor dwarf to ash.” Geralt told Blake as she bent down to inspect the pile for herself.

“How to we stop it from doing to us what it did to them?”

“I dunno. Bet it’s got something to do with that inscription though.” Geralt said as he got up and cautiously made his way to the door. Stopping in front of it, Geralt began to translate.

“The inscription, it’s elder speech, an old, dead language.”

 “What’s it say.”

“Well, it looks like a riddle. ‘A king has no sons, no daughters, and no queen. For this reason he must decide who will take the throne after he dies. To do this he decides that he will give all of the children of the kingdom a single seed. Whichever child has the largest, most beautiful plant will earn the throne; this being a metaphor for the kingdom. At the end of the contest all of the children came to the palace with their enormous and beautiful plants in hand. After he looks at all of the children's pots, he finally decides that the little girl with an empty pot will be the next Queen. Why did he choose this little girl over all of the other children with their beautiful plants?’ My medallion’s trembling.  Gotta answer the riddle correctly to pass”

“What if we get it wrong?” Blake asked, though Geralt suspected she already knew the answer.

“We end up like them.” Geralt motioned to the corpses strew about in front of the door.

Geralt finished rereading the inscription for the third time, before leaning against the cave wall, pondering the riddle. After a few moments of silence from both travelers, Blake spoke up.

“I-I think I’ve got it.”

“Well, then, if you’re sure, go for it. If you’ve got it wrong, I’ll try to keep you safe. No promises though.”

“That’s comforting” came Blake’s sarcastic retort.

“Witchers aren’t known for being comforting.”

“What happened to everything you said about rumors being just exaggerations?” Blake said with a wry grin.

“Well… damn. Got me there.”

Blake smirked at Geralt’s expense for a moment, before her expression grew more serious as she looked back to the door.

“If I don’t make it, and you do, try to track down Raven. Let her know what happened and… ask her to tell Yang I’m sorry.”

“Sure. We can start whenever you’re ready. Tell me the answer, and I’ll translate it into Elder Speech.” Blake nodded in confirmation, looking at the door the way a cat might look at a predator. Geralt stood close behind Blake and held his hand up in the sign of Quen. A large golden bubble formed around the two.

“Give me the answer. Go ahead.”

“Alright.” Blake took a moment to compose herself, then released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She stood with a bit more determination, the change in body language helping sooth the feeling of danger slowly creeping up Geralts spine.

“The seeds the king gave to the children were fakes. The girl was the only one honest enough to resist the temptation to switch her seed out with one that would grow.”

“Not bad.” Said Geralt, impressed. “Here goes nothing. Mae'r hadau rhoddodd y brenin wrth y plant yn fakes . Roedd y ferch oedd yr unig un ddigon gonest i wrthsefyll y demtasiwn i newid ei had allan gyda un a fyddai'n tyfu” Geralt spoke slowly, careful to properly enunciate each word. After a few moments of silence, the doors opened, revealing a pitch black with something glimmering in the dark.

“Geralt?” Blake asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Something’s bothering me. There was an illusion blocking our path, but the dwarves in front of the door all clearly made it past without any trouble. That rock you have that made the illusion disappear, that’s not a common item people just carry with them, is it?”

“Was wondering if you’d notice. The eye’s not exactly common around here, and they’re durable, so if any of the dwarves had one it would probably be able survive the flames, which means that the illusion was put up after the dwarves were killed. Means whoever made this door is still, and they’re still guarding it, which is odd. Notice the wear on the door? This thing has been here for centuries, but someone’s still making sure whatever’s on the other side of that door goes undisturbed.”

“What do you think’s inside.”

“I don’t know. Won’t find out unless we go in. Shall we?” Geralt turned to Blake with a smile.

“After you” Blake said, returning Geralt’s smile with one of her own.

-0-

Stepping inside the room, Geralt pulled the vial from his jacket pocket and took another swallow of the mystery concoction. Whatever it was, Blake surmised it helped with his eyesight in the dark because he instantly became more aware of his surroundings in the pitch black.

The two of them traveled to the far end of the room where they came across something neither of them suspected. At the end of this large room were 25 statues carved out of green crystal, each depicting a knight standing proud, weapon in hand.

“This was what the doors were guarding? A few old statues? Death by incineration seems unnecessary just to guard all this.” Blake said, slightly flabbergasted.

“Thinking the same thing. Unless these aren’t statues. My medallions humming. And look at the crystal. There’s something underneath. Almost like the crystal grew around something. Or someone. Heh. Reminds me of this old story a student of mine used to love. Bout an old king who led Kovir to victory against an invader, then disappeared, his most trusted advisor, a mage, turning them to stone so they’d wake up when Kovir needed them again. Story says the mage hid them somewhere in the heart of a mountain.”

“Heh. That’s the kind of story my old leader at Beacon loved to read about. She loved fairy tales about brave heroes saving the day.”

“She would be disappointed to see how this story ended. Look here.” Geralt said as he pointed to the arm on one of the statues. After a few seconds of studying the arm, Blake noticed a spot of blood underneath the crystal. A broken bone that had torn its way through the skin of whoever was inside.

“Whatever did this, it wasn’t this man’s choice” Blake realized.

“Exactly. That’s a compound fracture. Arm was twisted into position. Looks like his neck’s broken too. All of them are like this except for the middle seven.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Means they were cursed, and we gotta lift it. If the people inside are still alive, maybe they can tell us who cast it. And more importantly how to find them.”

“What happens when we find them?”

“We find out why these people were like this. We convince them to shut down any deathtraps down here. Then we tell the alderman we did the job, collect the coin, and work on trying to get you home.”

“Someone went through a lot of trouble to keep these people trapped here. I don’t think they’ll like us setting them free.”

“If they try to stop us, we’ll deal with it. Everything suggests whoever cursed these people is a mage. A powerful one, but I know a thing or two about fighting them. It’ll be a tough fight, but with two of us, we can pull through.”

“Alright. I’ll trust you know what you’re doing. How do we lift the curse?”

“I know a few different ways that might work. I’ll start with an old chant I know. If the curse was cast in Elder Speech, might do the trick. In case it doesn’t, start looking around. Might find something that can help us.”

As Geralt got down into a meditative position and began to mutter in Elder Speech, Blake searched the room, looking closely at every nook and cranny. After an hour with nothing to show for her efforts, Blake moved back to Geralt, only to be startled when part of the wall behind her lit up in brilliant blue light. Blake called for Geralt, interrupting his chant. He rushed to Blake’s side, sword drawn, looking at the portal as though it might turn sentient and attack them. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it!” Before Blake could do anything, she felt an invisible force grab her and yank her through the portal. She heard Geralt’s cry of “Blake!” before it shut behind her.

A quick look around the room and Blake saw she wasn’t alone. A beautiful, yet haggard looking elven woman sat cross legged in the middle of what looked like a small chamber.

“Hello Blake. I am Mierlayn, and you are going to help me stop your friend from making a very big mistake.”

-0-

“Damnit! Portals. Bane of my damn existence.”

After looking at the part of the wall once occupied by the portal to confirm it was closed, Geralt searched the room. His Witcher senses picked up on nothing that could be used to summon back the portal, so he did the only thing he could. Went back to the statues and starting his chant again. Geralt figured that whoever trapped the men in crystal was probably the same person who took Blake, so getting the people trapped in the crystal free was his top priority. If they could tell him who cast the curse, he could find Blake. After a few more minutes of chanting, Geralt gave up, seeing as he had made no progress.

“Don’t have time for this.” Standing up, Geralt noticed a small crack on the nearest of the crystal statues. Half out of frustration, and half on a hunch, he threw his hand out in the sign of the Aard, pushing the statues over. With a mighty crash, the crystal shattered, the men inside collapsing, a few sputtering and gasping in a desperate attempt to pull air into their lungs, while those who were visibly harmed when the spell twisted their limbs into place were revealed to be dead. A quick inspection and Geralt confirmed that their necks were violently broken. Focusing on those still living, Geralt reached for the man closest to him, one of the few that seemed generally unharmed. Before Geralt could touch the man however, one of the others let out a cry of rage and charged at Geralt, sword drawn.

Unfortunately for the man, his joints were stiff from lack of use, giving Geralt ample opportunity to duck underneath his whirling blade before knocking him flat on his back with a lightning fast punch. The man let out a groan of pain. Geralt smiled wryly at his would be attacker before reaching down to pick him up off the floor. As soon as the man was back on his feet, he recoiled from Geralt, reaching for his sword.

“Away Witcher. You won’t lay a hand on our king.”

“Relax, I don’t want to hurt him. I only want to help. Who do you think it was, got you out of that crystal?”

“You got us out? Well then… thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me, but I still must insist that you do not touch our king. I made an oath. I can’t allow anyone but my King’s wife to touch him.”

“Odd, you’ve got a nordling’s accent, but that oath’s the kind of thing you’d see in Touissant. Why the vow? Your king sick? Don’t have to worry about me, Witchers are immune to disease.”

“No, he’s not sick, we were cursed. But you saved us from by breaking the crystal we were forced into by that… witch.”

“Been meaning to ask you about that. Why the crystal? What’d your king do to wind up trapped in a cave for a couple hundred years?”

The man Geralt had attempted to help, the king, sighed, and spoke to Geralt for the first time. “Over  two hundred years, you say?”

Geralt nodded. After a moment to let the information that he had lost years of his life sink in, the king continued. “It’s a long story. I do not like to speak of those days, but I suppose I must if you are understand.” The king turned to the knight that had rushed Geralt. “But before we begin, Gweimund, check on the men. I know most did not survive, but we can at least see to those who still live. Witcher, I would appreciate any aid you can provide. My men are precious to me, and I would see that you are rewarded for any medicines you can give us. Food would be appreciated, as well.”

“Sure. I’ll see if I can’t find something in my pack.” Geralt reached into his backpack before giving the necessary supplies to ‘Gweimund’. After the knight had left to see to his compatriots, Geralt turned back to the king. “Back to how you got cursed. Who’d you piss off?”

-0-

“That so called ‘King’ is a vile oathbreaker who let hundreds of innocents be slaughtered.” Mierlayn spat out, recounting her version of events to Blake in the other room.

“What did he do? It had to be something bad. Being trapped in a statue for years on end is a… creative punishment.” Blake said. She wasn’t quite sure the type of person she was dealing with. She had to pick her words wisely, or risk upsetting someone very powerful.

Mierlayn smiled vindictively. “It is, isn’t it?” She said. “I truly enjoyed condemning that coward to the mountains for all eternity. He said he wished to run away here, far away from his responsibilities, so I was happy to grant him his wish.”

“Wait. Could you please go back to the beginning?” Blake asked, confused. “Why did he want to ‘run away’?”

-0-

“I was king for over 30 good years. I ruled fairly, and justly. I never ran from a fight, and I always kept my oaths.” The king, who had introduced himself as ‘King Bolesaw the First of His Name’, said to Geralt.

“I was one of the only kings of my time to treat for peace with the elves who occupied the mountains surrounding my domain. While other rulers looked down on them, treated them as though they were less than human, I saw them for the great allies they could be.”

“That’s rare. Especially for a ruler from your time.”

“You know, it always baffled me why more monarchs didn’t deal with the elves. They knew the land of my kingdom better than myself, and with their help we could ensure that trade routes were secured and safe for my people. A service the elves were graciously compensated for.”

“I’m guessing your deal didn’t last long.”

 “You’d be wrong. We worked together and had many years of prosperity. Till one day a messenger from the leader of the elves arrived. Piast, one of my kingdom’s closest allies, had undergone a political uprising, and it’s new king was none too fond of elves. He had initiated a widespread purge of the elves, putting their villages o the torched, even in lands the king had no jurisdiction over. Naturally, I pledged to help the elves. They were my allies, I refused to abandon them, and so I brought my armies to bear against Piast’s.”

“I’ve heard a few things about a war that exterminated Piast. Nobody could ever figure out the cause though. Scholars have been trying for years.”

“I know the passage of time can erase the details of history, but to forget why we fought that war… That’s not right. The war was a bloody one, as most wars are, and it went on for a great many years. I fought side by side with my men, and together, we killed and burned and pillaged till the Kingdom of Piast was no more. We had achieved victory, but it was one most bittersweet. During the final battle, my son…” The king trailed off after that. Geralt didn’t need to press him. It was easy to guess what fate had befallen the King’s son.

“What happened after the battle?” Geralt asked, trying to avoid a touchy subject. King Boleslaw sighed, “After the loss of my son… the fight had left me. I… I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t even rule my people competently. So I sought a way out.

“Didn’t know there was a way out of being a king.”

“Neither did I, till I heard tell of a group of monks in the mountains of a kingdom to the north. They lived simple lives, lives of peace, and they welcomed any new members to their monastery with open arms. I wanted that life more than anything. So I, and an escort of my closest, most trusted companions, prepared to flee to this mountain range.”

“I’m guessing there were complications?.”

“You’d be correct. Before we could leave, an elven sage, a sorceress called Mierlayn came to me, appearing in my chambers in the dead of night. She had come to plead for my aid, for the remnants of Piast’s armies were reforming to take vengeance on the elves. They blamed them for their defeat, you see.” The king paused for a moment, the expression on Boleslaw’s face growing pained and regretful, though Geralt had no notion of why. After taking a moment to regain his composure, Boleslaw continued.

“I… I too blamed the elves, for if I hadn’t supported them, my son would have lived. I was blinded with grief, so I told them I would not be providing aid, albeit in a way that was unbecoming of a king.”

“So you threw her out because she had the gall to ask if you’d help make sure innocent people weren’t butchered like animals.”

The king’s expression grew shame filled as he recognized the truth of Geralt’s words. “As I said, it was unbecoming of me. It’s not what you’d expect a king to do, I know.”

“The opposite, actually. You acted like most kings I’ve met. Put your own hurt feeling ahead of the lives of hundreds of people.”

“Mind your tongue, witcher. He may be many things, but he is still a king, and he is my friend” One of the knights, the same one who had charged Geralt earlier, said, almost nonchalantly.

“It’s alright, Gweimund. The witcher speaks true. However, I fear that Mierlayn may arrive any minute, so I must ask that you relent from further interrupting me.”

“Fine then. Won’t say anything more till you’re done. Go ahead.”

The king took a moment to remember his place in the story, before continuing on. “She told me that if any of her people died, she would take vengeance on I and all who served me. And that’s exactly what happened. I arrived at the monastery to find it had been put to the torch, and Mierlayn was executing those who still lived. When I ordered my knights to stop her she cast her curse. It killed those who didn’t enter the crystal sleep willingly. She threatened to make me watch as she killed my men one by one if I refused submit willingly to the sleep. My men were innocent in this. So I and the few of my companions who still lived were forced into the crystal, and then trapped in the mountain, while Mierlayn crafted herself a nearby antechamber to watch over her prisoners, and ensure that their suffering was eternal. Inside the crystal, I was forced to relive the last moments of her people, those who died because I refused to protect them. The illusions she forced upon us, they were so real, but the pain, the fear, those were more pronounced.”

Boleslaw trailed off for a moment, and for the first time Geralt saw regret flash on the man’s face, if only for a moment. “I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense. If she wanted us to suffer, enhancing the shock and terror of that massacre… well let’s just say she accomplished what she set out to do. I hope your curiosity on this matter has been sated, Witcher, for I refuse to speak of it anymore.”

-0-

In the other room Mierlayn had just finished recounting her side of the story to Blake, who sat cross legged, listening attentively. “I watched as my people were murdered. Hundreds of innocents. Children even! There were so many, all I could do was take what few of us still lived and flee. So I tracked the bastard ‘king’ down and made sure he paid for every drop of blood he let Piast spill”

As the elven woman spoke of her people’s suffering, the pain and death they experienced, Blake found herself sympathizing with her captor. She was unsure if the king deserved the punishment the elf described, but her reasons for doing what she did Blake certainly understood. She remembered all that humanity had done to the faunus. Blake stopped herself from drifting into old, painful memories, looking up to find Mierlayn looking at her, the elf’s expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry. I was just… what you said, it brought back some unpleasant memories.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“I read your mind. It’s why I pulled you through the portal instead of your viper eyed companion. I knew the witcher would attack me the first chance he got. You on the other hand, I had at least a small chance of convincing you to take your witcher friend and leave. It’s why I haven’t loosed my elemental on his already.”

“Why’d you let it kill those miners?”

“Centuries of forcing of people in captivity have taken their toll, I’m afraid. I am the fuel that keeps the spell active. I must be in a deep state of concentration, otherwise your friend wouldn’t have been able to shatter that crystal.” Mierlayn said, a small look of surprise appearing on Blake’s face. “I put the elemental in place to ward off anyone looking for the king. It didn’t occur to me that anyone else would tunnel this deep. I… I didn’t mean to kill them. Unfortunately, we must go. We’re running short of time. Come, maybe you can convince your friend to leave. If you do, I won’t have to kill him.” Mierlayn said, rising to her feet rather shakily, her exhaustion showing in every movement. She opened a portal in front of her. Blake searched her surroundings for what must have been the hundredth time. But, just like all the other times, there was no way out besides doing what Mierlayn asked. Blake weighed her options, before getting up and following after the sorceress. Maybe it would be better if she just talked Geralt into abandoning the tomb. After meeting Mierlayn, Blake wasn’t sure if it would be right to stop her. This wasn’t like the White Fang, where killing was done as a means to gain respect through fear. But on the other hand, the king had done good for the elves, aiding them when true bigots marched against them. It was only when his son was killed that he refused to aid Mierlayn’s people. But, then she couldn’t say the king was right to refuse them either. Casualties are a part of war. As a leader, he needed to understand that not everyone comes home. When it came down to it, Blake saw no easy answer. All she could do for now was follow Mierlayn through the portal.

-0-

Geralt was helping see to the wounded when the same portal that had taken Blake opened once again. Drawing his sword, he approached the abomination, motioning for Bolesaw and his knights to stay where they were. Despite following Geralt’s silent order, the King’s men drew their swords and formed ranks around their liege lord. When Geralt was halfway to the portal, an elf woman who Geralt had never seen before stepped through the portal, followed silently by Blake. As Blake came through the portal, she looked first to Geralt, then to the king and his entourage of knights, who looked like they could snap at a pin drop. Noiselessly, Geralt and Blake made their way to each other, as Mierlayn made her way over to the knights.

“Good King!” Said Mierlayn mockingly, “You look as though you’ve just woken from a terrible nightmare!”

“Indeed.” Boleslaw replied. “I’ve been informed rather recently, that I’ve seen suffering from such nightmares for years.”

“Well then, you must allow me to see to your wellbeing! I owe it to you after everything you’ve done for my people! I know just the spell to ensure a long, unbroken sleep.” Mierlayn spoke, her mocking tone of voice still present.

“Enough with this façade Mierlayn. You wish to send me back to the crystal? Very well then, I will go willingly. But I beg you, Leave my men out of this.”

“But sire-!” Gweimund began to protest only to be silenced with a wave of his king’s hand.

“Surprising.” Mierlayn said after a brief moment of introspection.

“Is it so odd for a king to care for his men’s wellbeing?”

“No. But it is odd that someone would so willingly submit themselves to torture,  even if they deserve it.”

“Well, the visions, the pain we suffered through in that crystal, all those innocents… You know what the worst of your visions were, sorceress? They were the ones of fathers who saw their families butchered because I refused to protect them. I more than deserve whatever punishment you see fit, but as I said, spare my men. Let them walk free, they had nothing to do with this.”

“I must admit, Bolesaw, I had not thought you capable of such… remorse.” Mierlayn said, genuine surprise creeping into her voice.

“To tell the truth, neither did I. Now let’s get this over with.” The king spoke with such resignation in his voice that it stirred something in Mierlayn she had long forgot. She found herself forced to remember the admiration she had for the man.

“No! Sire I cannot allow it!“ Gweimund interjected.

“You will allow whatev-“ Bolesaw began, before being cut off by Gweimund.

“Sire, it is clear she has bewitched you! No man would go back to that hell willingly!” Gweimund said before turning to the remaining knights. “Men! Will you allow your liege to have his mind taken from him? To submit himself to that crystal prison once more? I for one will not! To arms!” he cried, drawing his sword, the other knights following suit and charging Mierlayn.

“What should we do?!” Blake asked Geralt.

“Try to get the knights to stop. Before they kill anyone.” He said as he drew his sword, Blake following suit as they leaped in to defend the sorceress. Bolesaw, having no weapon himself, could only shout his protest.

“I came to these mountains to escape bloodshed! I will not have any more blood spilt in my name!” but his words went ignored by his men.

Mierlayn was quick to shield herself with a spell, calling forth a golden orb of magic to protect her from the knight’s blades while she summoned her pet fire elemental.  Gweimund drew his arm back, readying a strike to the sage’s barrier. Like a coiled viper he lashed out with his blade only to have his sword intercepted by Geralt’s. The Witcher then followed up on the opening by smashing his shoulder into Gweimund’s platemail, knocking the knight on his ass once more.

“Stop this Gweimund. Your king’s not cursed, he’s just feeling guilty. If this is what he wants let him go through with it.”

“It makes no sense! I was stuck in that crystal, same as him! I… I can’t believe it!” Gweimund shouted as he took another swing at Geralt.

While Geralt was trying to force Gweimund to see sense, Blake was distracting the elemental, trying to keep it from incinerating any of the knights. She maneuvered around the beast’s flaming limbs with practiced ease, each dodge made strategically so as to lead it away from the knights. A quick glance at Geralt and Blake saw him dancing in between the blades of the knights. Blake threw out several shadow clones around the monster and ran to Geralt’s position, knocking one knight out with the flat of Gambol Shroud’s blade before blocking an oncoming strike from another opponent.

As Geralt rolled out of the way of an oncoming strike he found himself back to back with Blake. The young huntress glanced over her shoulder at him. “Any idea how we can stop them without killing anyone?” She asked before leaping out of the way of an oncoming blow, leaving a shadow clone in her place. Thinking quickly, Geralt danced his way back to Gweimund before casting the sign of Axii at the knight nearest to him. The knight quickly turned and attacked Gweimund, swinging a flail at his comrade with all his might. Gweimund narrowly avoided the blow, turning to Geralt with awe and fear written across his face. A quick shout from Geralt for the man to stop had the knight pause what he was doing. All other knights turned their gaze to Geralt, the same look on their faces that was on Gweimund’s.

“This is what someone looks like when they’ve been bewitched. Does your king look anything like that?!” Geralt shouted, gesturing to both the knight he had bewitched and the king, who had made his way over to a tired looking Mielayn, begging for her to call off the elemental, which was still batting at Blake’s shadow clones and shaking the room doing so. Seeing the knights were currently preoccupied, unwilling to go on after Geralt’s rather sound argument, Mierlayn dropped her shield and waved to the elemental, which stilled at her command. She then collapsed, exhausted, as one would be, Geralt figured, after holding dozens of men in crystal and forcing visions on them for who knows how long. As she tried to pick herself up, Mierlayn was surprised to see that King Bolesaw had bent down help her back to her feet. After she had gotten back up, the king turned to his men.

“It’s… it’s not as though I want to go back to the crystal, but I feel I have to. I stood by and allowed hundreds of people to be slaughtered in droves. Please, just go. I release you from your oaths. You’re free men. Go.”

Sure enough, several of the knights threw down their arms, swayed by Geralt’s show of magic and their king’s speech. If it was their King’s wish to stay in the crystal, what right did they have to stop him? Soon, all but three of the knights, those being Gweimund and two other knights who had served Bolsaw for just as long, held weapons at the ready. The King looked to his closest friend and once again attempted to convince him to leave.

“Gweimund, how many times have you put your faith in me? Hundreds? Thousands even? And in all the years we fought together, you trusted me completely. Please, trust me this one last time. Allow me to trade my freedom so you can have yours.”

“Bolesaw, I was trapped in that hell just as long as you, and I’d done nothing to this witch! I spoke out against leaving her people to die, but I trusted you. You’re my closest friend. You’re the brother I never had. But I’ve seen how flawed your judgement can be.” With that, he pulled his crossbow out from where he had slung it across his back, and took aim at Mierlayn. Blake rushed forward as Geralt pulled out his own hand crossbow, firing at Gweimund’s shoulder. Geralt’s bolt found its mark, however, it was too late. By the time Geralt’s bolt hit its target, Gweimund had fired. Time seemed to slow down as everyone in the room watched the bolt on its way to the exhausted sorceress.

Just before the bolt reached its target, Bolesaw rushed forward, knocking Mierlayn off her feet and out of the path of the bolt. Pain shot through his side as he felt the bolt enter his chest, piercing his lung.

Both Gweimund and Bolesaw hit the floor, the sound of the two men colliding with the ground echoing throughout the chamber. Gweimund shot up to his feet, before gasping at the sight before him. Bolesaw gasped in pain from his spot on the floor, feling the blood rush into his lungs. He looked around the room, noticing the look of complete horror the faces of the few knights who had stayed by Gweimund’s side. Blake stared at the dying man in shock. The king may not be a good man in her eyes, but he didn’t deserve to die like this, at the hands of his best friend. Geralt, however, looked as if this was the sort of outcome he expected all along.  Bolesaw turned his gaze to Mierlayn, struggling to pull herself off the floor. After making little headway towards getting back on her feet, she resigned herself to crawling towards Bolesaw, who locked eyes with her, before smiling, and speaking for the last time.

“This is good… isn’t it?”

-0-

“Were you actually going curse Bolesaw again?” Blake asked as she, Mierlayn, and Geralt stood outside the chamber’s entrance. The fire elemental had been destroyed at Geralt’s behest. A witcher needs a trophy to receive payment after all. Gweimund and the remaining knights had stayed behind to bury their dead, Bolesaw included.

“I… I don’t know. There was a time when my hatred for that man was all that kept me going. I lived off his suffering. I suppose I just wasn’t prepared to see that there was a good man still buried in there.”

“What will you do know?” Geralt asked, speaking to Mierlayn for the first time.

“I suppose… well, the monks who lived in these mountains, the ones I… murdered. I own several books on their philosophy. I may build a monastery of my own. It would certainly be ironic for me to be the one who brings back their teachings to the world, but… a life away from it all, focused on inner peace… I can certainly see the appeal of it, and it seems right, in a way.” Mierlayn said as she opened a portal in front of her. Just before she left, she turned to Blake.

“I hope you find your way back home, Blake.” She told her with a smile, before turning to Geralt. “If you wish, I can send you to entrance of the cave. It would certainly save you time.”

“No. Please, no.” Geralt said, a small amount of panic in his voice.

“Are you sure witc-“

“Absolutely” Geralt interrupted, hoping Blake didn’t speak up in protest. Thankfully it seemed the young huntress had had her fill of teleportation for the day and shook her head in agreement. Mierlayn then took her leave, vanishing through the portal to begin her new life, leaving Blake and Geralt alone.

“Geralt?” Blake spoke quietly.

“Yes?”

“What just happened in there… did we do the right thing?”

“In my line of work, there are plenty of situations where I have to ask myself that.”

“Did you ever find an answer.”

“No, at least not a good one. I’ve only ever found a way to justify whatever choices I make. That even if I didn’t make a good choice, I tried to choose the lesser evil. If we didn’t let those men out of the crystal, they would have kept on suffering. If I didn’t shoot Gweimund, Bolesaw still would have died.”

“Why did you shoot him at all? I think he of all people was justified. He was wronged because of someone else’s vendetta.”

“I made a snap decision. If I was faster, Gweimund might not’ve gotten that shot off. I thought that maybe we could get Mierlayn to back down, and we could save her and Bolesaw both. The lesser evil.”

With that, Geralt and Blake turned to the path back out of the cave, and began their journey home.

-0-

Geralt and Blake took their time traveling back out of the cave, Geralt. The once two day journey was stretched to three days. Geralt and Blake conversed about nothing in particular for pretty much the entire journey, till, finally, they came out of the cave entrance. Making their way into town, they visited the alderman, giving the man the elemental trophy and explaining the story the best they could. After accepting payment and resisting the temptation to punch the man after he insulted the “filthy knife ears”, the two of them found a table at the tavern, ordering the first hot meal they’d had in days. Their meal was interrupted as the tavern door was thrown open, a man in a colorful tunic and feather laden cap walking into the tavern.

“Good patrons of this fine establishment, Today is a day I am sure you will all remember, a day the events of which you will recount to your children as they look up at you in awe! For today is the day that the great bard and troubadour, Master Dandelion graced your lovely establishment! Now, who would like to be the first to buy me an ale?” Dandelion shouted, looking around the room expectantly. Fortunately, he spotted Geralt before he could notice that, as was typical, no one had stepped up to buy him a drink, and most had just turned back to their food.

“Geralt! I’d heard you had come up this way! I was afraid I was going to miss you!” He said excitedly, locking wrists with Geralt before taking a seat beside him.

“You were looking for me? What’d you do this time?” Geralt asked, as though he were talking to an unruly child.

“Geralt! I’m to be a married man! Do you really expect me to go getting myself in trouble mere months away from my wedding?” Dandelion asked, rather unconvincingly?

“Speaking of which, where _is_ Priscilla?” Geralt asked, suspiciously. “You’re not here because you fouled things up with her, did you?”

“No, the opposite, actually, we’re both in Kovir on business. The King has asked for us to play at his daughter’s wedding. When Triss mentioned you were here as well, I thought it’d be the perfect time to ask you for a favor.”

“Why do I think you’re not about to ask me to be your best man?” said Geralt, resigned.

“Oh Geralt, the job is already yours! I just wanted to ask if I could, maybe, borrow Corvo Bianco for the wedding?” Dandelion asked with a nervous chuckle.

“You traveled all this way to ask me that?”

“Well I’d already promised Priscilla we’d have the wedding there, and I thought you’d be more open to the idea than… well…”

“Oh, I get it. You just wanted me to be the one that has to break the news to Yen.”

“I would appreciate that very much, thank you!”

Geralt sighed and grew quite for a moment. “Fine. She’s going to kill you and make me bury the body for springing this on her, you know that, right?”

“Most assuredly. But, look at us, yacking on like gossiping old women when you have a guest at your table. Who is this?” Dandelion said, turning his gaze to Blake.

“That… is a long story”

-0-

The creature would stay dormant in the girl for as long as it needed. The girl radiated enough pain and guilt that it could survive in hibernation long enough to avoid detection from the sorceress when it gazed into the girl’s mind. It had traveled this land since the Conjunction, such things were trivial to it. The Witcher on the other hand, would be a problem. It had driven it out of its previous host, and The creature was sure he could do it again if he caught onto the creatures presence. But It could be Cautious. It could wait till the girl was back in her own world before it drove her to madness.

-0-

Raven had woken days ago in a place that was most certainly not Patch. After trying to ascertain her location by the constellations, she came to the conclusion that she was most likely not on Remnant anymore. Ignoring for now the incredible implications this meant for her semblance, she had immediately began searching for Blake. This had led her to what passed in this world for a town, which she was immediately driven out of with shouts from the mudfarming peasants of “A leshy, a leshy!” The next day, she found herself face to face with what the villagers called ‘a Witcher’. The heavily scarred man took one look at her and sheathed his sword, lamenting the fact he wouldn’t be paid for his time. After chatting with him for a short time, she found out the man’s name was Eskel, and she had somehow ended up in the country of Redania. The two parted on pleasant terms, wishing each other good luck as they set out on their respective paths.

Before he departed, Eskel had warned the Huntress of the very real possibility of a leshen in the area. Apparently, the monster she somehow resembled was capable of manipulating ravens, and Eskel had noticed that any time he had seen the birds in the past few weeks, they had been acting strangely. Thankful for the warning, she tried to stick as close to the roads as was possible without drawing attention to herself.

On the third night, she was beset upon by wolves while building a fire for herself. Drawing her sword, she cut down the first one to charge her with such speed that the other wolves bolted, running back into the darkness of the forest around her. After finally managing to build herself a fire, she was startled by a voice coming from right behind her.

“Well that was impressive. It’s not every day you see someone drive away wolves that efficiently. Then again, it’s not every day you meet someone from another world, especially post conjunction.” At the man’s voice, Raven shot to her feet, whipping around as she did so, and drew her katana, and settling into a ready stance. The man, an unassuming elderly gentleman, skinny as a reed, and smelling slightly of herbs and roots, held his hands up in surrender.

“There’s no need to resort to violence, I assure you. I am here merely to offer aid to someone in a situation not unlike my own.”

“And just what kind of situation am I in?” Raven asked from gritted teeth, refusing to sheath her katana.

“Well I should think that would be rather obvious. You’re stranded in another world, no doubt looking for a way back home. I can smell it all over you. You’re not of this world. I found myself in similar circumstances… let’s just say a long time ago and leave it at that.”

“And you’d like to help me out of the kindness of your heart?” Raven asked skeptically.

“I wouldn’t say that. The journey might prove to be interesting. And the only person I know capable of getting you back home safely can be contacted most easily through a dear old acquaintance of mine, though at some peril to myself, and you as a result. I trust you do not shy away in the face of danger.” He said with a smile, as though daring her. Raven merely sheathed her sword with a smile of her own, reaching her hand out for the man to shake, which he took in a surprisingly firm grip for someone as slender as he.

“I’m Raven.”

“A fitting name, and a beautiful one I must say. I am Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, though I prefer Regis.”

-0-A/N

Well that’s that. Took me longer than I expected to edit this, otherwise it’d be out a week back. For all the people reading this on fanfiction.net familiar with my other story, don’t worry, I’ve not abandoned it for this, just wanted to get this idea I had in my on the page. For everyone else, hello! I’m that guy who writes, because I am the only guy who writes anything on the internet. That’s just a fact. Not really, it’s more like a huge lie. Fun fact, this story is based on the Polish myth of King Boleslaw, the Polish version of King Arthur, and that is why I came up with the name Mierlayn, since it’s phonetically similar to Merlin. The reason I chose that particular story is because the Witcher as a series is primarily based on Polish myths, but are almost always a dark parody of them. A good parody comes when you ask “what if all the awesome stuff you see in a story were affected by humanities flaws?” the Witcher series does this, but plays it up for drama, not for laughs. In this instance, what if the reason the king turned to stone wasn’t to await a time when his land would be need him, but was forced there because he did something wrong?

The next chapter will focus on Raven and Regis, and will most likely be shorter than this one. After that, Dendelions wedding, where Yen and Ciri will become far more important to the story, and a surprise visit by another RWBY character not seen in this story yet.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven deals with the ally she's recently made, and gets information on Blake from a new acquaintance.

A/N: Sorry if this is a bit later than I intended, I hope to get this out before the release of Vol.4 Episode 1. Windows 10 is making it hard for me to do that because it keeps refusing to save the damn thing, and is just all around being a bad piece of software, which makes me even more angry that Microsoft installed it to my computer while I was out to the store without asking if I wanted the damn OS on my laptop in the first place. But, in spite of my setbacks, I’m still hoping you’re reading this before Volume 4 starts up, and if you are, then I’m a very happy camper.

One last thing before I begin the chapter, and that’s that I’d like to thanks all of you who gave reviews, fav’d, followed, commented on, and subscribed to this fic. It really blows my mind that it got this good of a reception, and I’m hoping this next chapter, while shorter, is equally as well received. Really, thank you guys. Without further ado, let’s begin!

-0-

“Why are we headed north if we’re trying to get to Toussaint? I don’t exactly see the logic in going in the wrong damn direction.” Asked Raven the morning after she and Regis had agreed to travel together. It was odd to have a traveling companion, Raven thought. She was so used to the lonely silence of her self-imposed exile that she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with another person traveling alongside her, but he had kept her up for most of the night asking her questions of her home, and the events that led to her arriving in this world, so Raven decided that for now, she’d just let herself be irritable.

 “Well, I prefer to think of it as traveling North to go South. To be blunt with you, I would prefer it that certain parties believed I was in Oxenfurt before we travel south. It’s not far, maybe a day or so, but I feel I should warn you, we will be there for several days before setting out again.”

“Just who did you screw over? Did you borrow money from the wrong people? I can handle a few thugs, there’s no need to go wasting time.” Raven replied, more than a little angrily.

“If only it were so simple. I’ve already told you I’m not of this world. I suppose it goes without saying at this point I’m not human, and among my kind there are certain rules one should never break, the most important being ‘don’t kill another of our kind’, a rule I was forced to break to save the very friend we are on our way to meet. I am sorry, I know you would like to get home, believe me, I felt much the same when I first arrived in this world, but if we go south now it would put us both at too much risk.”

“Very well.” Raven sighed, with a hint of sympathy on her face. “What’s the plan?” She asked.

“I would like to establish a presence in the community large enough to lure my pursuers to the city, but live make any rumors of my location vague enough so that no one is harmed. Perhaps establish a clinic in an isolated hut outside the city walls. After a few days, we’ll leave, and they will, hopefully, come searching for me in the wrong place, allowing us to slip into Touissant unnoticed.”

“Fine. If we’re going to be stuck in one place for a while, I suppose I can ask about Blake. Try to make sure that we’re doing something with our time up there.”

“Not to worry, I’ve already saved you the trouble. While you were asleep last night, I met with an acquaintance of mine, who will certainly have an easier time of finding your young friend than you or I.”

“Whoever they are, I doubt they can find her any faster than I can.” Raven stated, to which Regis smirked.

“My friends are never to be underestimated.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Raven asked exasperatedly, which only caused Regis’ smile to grow

“I suppose elaboration is necessary. I’m what the peoples of this world refer to as ‘a vampire’, creature that lives off the blood of others.”

“I know what a vampire is. They’re just old legends where I come from.”

“Really? Interesting. In this world, most myths have an inkling of truth to them. Perhaps one of my brethren made it to your world, and that’s how your legend of vampires came to be. Or perhaps it’s a cosmic coincidence. Either way, the implications are fascinating.” Regis said, a barely concealed mirth in his voice.

“I still don’t see how you being a myth helps me find Blake. Unless you can mystically summon bats to go out and find her.”

“That’s… not far from the truth actually. Though I prefer ravens to bats.”

“For your sake, I’m going to assume that wasn’t a come-on.”

“I appreciate that, though I assure you, my interest in you is purely because I sympathize with you. I merely wish to get you, and the young Miss Belladonna, home safe and sound.” Regis said with a reassuring smile.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it. How long till your raven friends get back us?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say a just few days from now. Not to worry, I’m sure she can look after herself.” Regis laid a comforting hand of Raven’s shoulder, which she quickly shook off.

“It’s not her I’m worried about. She’s a means to an end.”

“You don’t sound entirely convinced of that.”

Raven sighed, looking down at the ground for a moment. “It’s a long story. One I’d rather keep to myself.”

“Of course. I won’t pry.” Regis said simply before turning and heading out, Raven not far behind.

-0-

Just as Regis said, the two arrived to the city of Oxenfurt, where he bought a small herbalist’s hut at full price, later telling Raven that people with large coin pouches made for good gossip. When questioned on where he got the coin, he merely smiled and said from people who didn’t deserve it. At the end of the third day, Regis and Raven had settled into the small hut, where, at Regis’ insistence, Raven took the only bed, before Regis left, stating that he was off to introduce himself as a newly arrived Herbalist from Timeria. Raven went to sit down on the edge of the bed, only to find herself staring at it, a feeling of unease slowly growing in the pit of her stomach. Rolling her bedroll out on the floor instead, she sat down cross legged and assumed the meditative position Taiyang had shown her when they were first partnered together at Beacon, focusing on the moment at hand.

The way of life Tai lived by and introduced Raven to had, ironically, proved incredibly helpful in convincing her to make the necessary choices, and leave both Taiyang and their daughter behind. And they continued to help her when the loneliness got to her, and she wanted nothing more than to run back to Patch and embrace her child.

It was in that position that Regis found her, an hour later. His good natured smile didn’t leave his face as he walked up to Raven and shook her. As she opened her eyes, she groaned in annoyance.

“I’m not used to people sneaking up on me. Makes me uncomfortable.”

“That was not my intent. I merely assumed you to be asleep, and thought I’d get you to bed. Sitting on the floor like that seems like a horrid place to rest, after all.”

“I’ve slept in worse, believe me. And I wasn’t sleeping, I was meditating.”

“Fascinating! As far as I know meditation is a Witcher’s technique? Did you learn it when training to be a huntress?”

“No, someone… someone dear to me showed me how.”

“Curiosity drives me to ask who?”

“Well I’m sorry your curiosity’s going to go unsatisfied.” Raven said, not sounding at all sorry.

“A shame. Your world fascinates me. So many similarities between it and the one we are currently in! I would very much like to question you further.”

“I suppose a few questions would be alright, if they got you and your curiosity to stop pestering me. Just don’t keep me up till the break of dawn this time.”

If Regis was put off by Raven’s irritable behavior, he didn’t show it. “I shall do my utmost to ensure you have a long and undisturbed sleep.”

“Coming from a vampire, that doesn’t sound very comforting.”

-0-

Raven didn’t mind Regis’ interrogations as much this time around since he, true to his word, let her go to sleep at what most humans would consider a reasonable time. Though she did still get a kick out of the look of disappointment on his face as she informed him that her barebones rundown of the Kingdoms of Remnant would have to do for the night.

The next day, at Regis’ insistence and after donning a less striking set of leather armor, as well as a potion Regis concocted to change her eye color for the day, she set out into the city of Oxenfurt, her sword concealed beneath a cloak. She very easily passed through the checkpoint going into the city, as Regis had informed her of Nilfgaard’s recent conquest of the country of Redania, and with it it’s purge of the which hunters who held this area and the rods going in and out of it in an iron grip.

Despite Regis’ insistence that his raven ‘friends’ would find Blake, she was determined to search for news of the girl, if only to make herself busy. Raven found it odd, back in Remnant, she was calm patient, always waiting for the right opportunity to take advantage of for her mission, here though… well, Raven needed to get back home, and was not comfortable with this anxiousness building inside her. So, in an attempt to remain proactive, she entered the local pub, hoping to listen in on any rumors from the local drunks.

Entering the establishment, and avoiding two mercenaries in a drunken brawl with each other, she made her way over to the barman, only to be stopped as another of the mercenaries grabbed her hand and attempted to pull her onto his lap.

“C’mon lass, don’t be shy, sit right don her on me lap, I promise, I don’t bite!” the man shouted, drawing the eye of everyone in the tavern.

“Do you have a family?” Raven asked through gritted teeth.

“Why, yes! I don’t see why-“ The man said, slightly flustered by Raven’s ferocity.

“Would you like to see them again?” Raven’s now wore a dangerous smile.

“Yes!” The man visibly gulped. The smell of urine was barely masked by the scent of liquor.

“Then remove your hand. Now.” Raven said dangerously. The man quickly retracted his hand, before standing up and shuffling out of the bar, attempting to hide his soiled trousers. After a moment, the other bar patrons burst into laughter, saluting her with their mugs of ale.

As she approached the barkeep, she ordered a small mug of wine for herself, so as not to stand out, but when she reached for the coin purse Regis she had ‘borrowed’ from Regis’ satchel, she heard a voice from behind her.

“Her drinks on me.” Raven turned to see a man with fiery red hair on the top of his head, a handle bar mustache and goatee on his face, as well as a collection of scars covering his head. The almost arrogant way he stood reminded her of her brother, the way he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword told her he knew how to use it.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re looking to woo me, I… already have someone.”

“A shame, but it wasn’t my intent anyways. I merely wanted to apologize for the way my man acted.” The man said, gesturing to the trail of urine the mercenary family man had left behind.

“Yeah, a bunch of real gentlemen you’ve got there.”

“Where’d you get that impression? They’re nothing of the sort, I assure you. Every one of them’s a cutthroat drunk.” The man said as he led the two of them to his table.

“What does that make you then?” Raven asked, prepared to draw her sword from underneath her cloak.

“Their leader, trying to steer them away from innocent people, and towards even worse cutthroat drunks.” The man said with a hint of pride in his voice, before his grabbing his cup of ale and downing it in one go, gesturing for Raven to do the same. Raven took a small sip of her wine. She was never much of a drinker. Ironic, when her brother was Qrow Branwen. Unfortunately, the stranger across the table from her noticed this.

“You don’t drink too much for someone in a tavern. Makes me wonder just what you’re here for.” The man said with a hint

“What can I say? Drunks are interesting to me.” Raven replied without a hint of humor in her voice.

“Not as much as what they have to say, am I right? It’s either that or you’re after whatever’s in their pockets.”

“The first.” Raven admitted.

“So, a spy. Who for? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Nilfgaard took over this damned country a few years ago, no need to send spies out anymore.”

“I’m not a spy. At least, not for anyone but myself.”

“Interesting.” The man replied, sounding a bit too much like Regis.

“Please don’t use that word. I have this… traveling companion who says that everything I tell him is ‘interesting’.”

“Well I’ll do my best.” The man said with a hint of humor in his voice. “But only if you tell me what you’re doing here.”

“What does it matter to you?” Raven asked in a voice that told the man to leave the issue be. He apparently wasn’t a good listener, much to Raven’s chagrin.

“Let’s just say you’ve piqued my interest.” He told her with a cocky smirk

“I already told you, I’m spoken for.”

“By who? Your friend who thinks you’re interesting?”

“No, he’s just helping me out for the time being. I don’t really think he’s too interested in anyone to be honest. At least not how you mean it.”

“Then who is it, who won the ladies hand?”

“He didn’t win anything but a lot of heartbreak, trust me.” Regret was clear in Raven’s voice.

“Sleep with another man?” the stranger asked casually.

“No. My… home was in danger, and I needed to leave him alone with our child to keep them both safe.” Raven said, her voice growing even sadder.

“Ah. So you abandoned him, and the child.” He assumed, without a hint of judgement in his voice.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t still love them.” Raven relied aggressively. “I just wanted to keep my daughter safe.” Raven cringed inwardly at the irony. She left to keep Yang safe, but her attempt to do so left in her in a position that prevented her from saving her daughter when she lost her arm.

“A worthy goal, I suppose. I know this’ll sound odd, but, I’ve been in a similar situation myself, so a word of warning. You meet a man calling himself ‘Gaunter O’Dimm’ or ‘Master Mirror’, don’t listen to a thing he has to say. He prays of people like us, the desperate who just want to do better for their families.” The man said with a mix of bitterness and hatred in his voice, staring hard into his drink, before turning his gaze back to Raven.

“If there’s anything you need help with, that will get you to your family any faster, anything at all, let me know.” He added, his voice a bit warmer.

“Just feeling generous?” Raven questioned.

“Empathetic is the word I’d use. It’s as I said, I was once in a similar situation, and now I find myself trying to make up for the mistakes I made. This feels… right.”

“Very, well I’m not going to turn away the help. I’m looking for a girl, seventeen, black hair with a black bow on top of her head, and, as odd as it sounds, yellow eyes.”

“Like a witcher’s? It seems you’re in luck. I’ve got men all over the continent feeding me information, makes finding jobs easier, and a few of them saw her and an old witcher friend of mine and a few others in Novigrad, heading south. They’ll be in nearing the Seven Cats Inn ‘round a week or so. Plenty of time, if you’re hoping to catch up to them.”

“Thank you. That… it means a lot to me. The sooner I find her, the sooner I can go home.”

“She your daughter, this raven haired witcheress?” The man asked inquisitively.

“No, but she’s very dear to her.”

“Ah, so you’re bringing her home with you as an apology of sorts?”

“I suppose.”

“Well then I hope it goes well. I truly do. And when you meet her traveling companions, tell them Oldgierd Von Everec sends his regards.”

-0-

After her talk with Oldgierd, Raven practically sprinted her way back to the hut, weaving her way through the other travelers on the road out of Oxenfurt. When she at last arrived at her destination, she yanked open the door spotting Regis, facing away from her, mixing herbs while away chatting with a man who’s boots were off, showing his gout to everyone in the room. Noticing Raven’s entrance, he cut his conversation short, handing the man the paste he had made from the herbs.

“Remember, rub it once a day for a week and it will go away in just time for you to dance at your daughter’s wedding.” He said before shuffling the man out the door , waving as he watched his patient meander down the road for a bit, before closing the door and turning back to Raven.

“Good news, I believe I’ve found Ms. Belladonna! One of my raven friends spotted her just a few days ago, with two old acquaintances of mine making camp on just outside of Novigrad. Better yet, one of them is the friend I was taking you south to meet. This will expedite things. Now, we’ve but to predict where they are going, and meet them at along the way.”

“The Seven Cats Inn.” Raven said with a smile. “Met a man in the city, said he knew this witcher too. Told me where we can meet up with them. They’ll be there in a week.”

“Color me impressed.” Regis said with mirth clear in his voice, before his expression grew dour. “Unfortunately, we don’t have enough time, we may end up tracking most of the way to Toussaint. I can travel there as fast as mist, but you, however, present a problem.”

“How many days would it take for a raven to fly there?” Raven asked, a cocky smile stretching across her face.

“There are a great many things I can do, but turning you into a raven isn’t one of them I’m afraid.” Said Regis, oblivious to Raven’s meaning.

“No need for you to do anything.” Raven told him, before he body began to shrink and contort into that of a ravens, which quickly flew up and perched itself on a windowsill.

“Just when I think this adventure of our can’t get any more interesting…” Regis said, his usual grin once again adorning his face.

-0-

“He’s passed out again.” Said Salem, staring at the unconscious body of Ozpin laying chained up before her.

“Wait for him to wake up, then start again, she told Cinder, before marching up to Adam Taurus, who stood staring at Ozpin’s body, his expression unreadable through the mask. A devious smile appeared on her face as she approached him.

“I’ve finally figured out why I’ve been unable to track down your missing ‘girlfriend’.” Salem told the faunus. She’s no longer in this realm. Now, while I would be fine with this, one less annoyance, we need her to lure out our silver eyed nuisance. Fortunately for us, while I cannot yet leave this realm, you can. Find her. Bring her to me.”

Adam smiled as he nodded his assent.

-0-

A/N: This is till technically out before the start of Volume 4, but I’ve once again found I just don’t have the time for long chapters. Between work and taking care of my grandmother, it’s hard to write chapters as long as the first one I put up for this story, so expect Chapters to be a bit shorter from here on out. I’m sorry about that if it upsets anybody, but I find people tend to like shorter chapters anyway, so I think it’ll work out.

Please, PLEASE leave feedback for me, it keeps me going in more ways than one. And as a final note, yes, I did quote Ryan Haywood from Heroes and Halfwits. It’s you’ve seen episode 20, you know what I’m talking about.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Regis and Raven were faffing about down in Novigrad, Geralt, Blake and Dandelion were up to all sorts of mischief.

 

A/N: so a bit of a heads up here, there is a scene in this chapter where fans of the Witcher who haven’t read the books might see Geralt as acting out of character. The reason for this is because the games never really gave Dandelion the amount of time spent with Geralt he deserved. In the books, Dandelion is a confidant of Geralt’s who will call him out on his actions, and I wanted to show that here. You’ll know the scene when you get to it, since it’s the only scene where Geralt and Dandelion talk one on one in the chapter. I don’t own either the Witcher or RWBY. Unfortunately.

-0-

After a three day trip, Dandelion, Blake, and Geralt arrived in the Koviri capital city, walking into the Towering Footman, the inn where Dandelion and Priscilla were staying. Unlike the previous inn Blake had visited, the Footman was well kept and clearly reflected the type of clientele it wanted to attract. So when Blake and Geralt were stared at by the patrons and innkeeper, she suspected it had less to do with their catlike eyes and more to do with their mud covered, weather-worn clothing and disheveled appearance. Geralt in particular drew more than a few glares as he and Dandelion staked their claim on a table near the back of the inn, though the innkeeper wouldn’t dare ask them to leave for fear of offending Dandelion, who’s fiancé was slated to perform in just a few minutes.

After settling in, Dandelion ordered food and drink for his table as the group waited for Priscilla’s performance to start. Several minutes of monotonous conversation later, and the trobairitz took the stage. After tinkering with her lute for a moment, a bright smile sprouted on her face upon seeing Dandelion in the back of the inn. Taking a moment to regain her composure, she began her show, her surprisingly low and almost gravelly voice mesmerizing the audience as she weaved a tale of two lovers name Freyja and Oldr.

The song, sung through the point of view of Freyja was introspective, and cleverly written to invite the same kind of introspection in the audience. It reminded Blake of the old trashy romance novels she hid from her teammates at Beacon. The kind of stories about great loves that shape the very world in impossible ways. Of course, most of her collection only used the story as an excuse to frame what Blake had to admit was smut, but she loved the books all the same. She loved the cheesy elaborate proclamations of love, the unrealistic devotion the main characters had to one another, but most of all, she loved the idea of someone who would always be there to help if something went wrong, from turning a bad day into a good one, to covering each other’s blind spots on a battlefield. Blake had once believed herself to be a romantic at heart, but no longer, after one relationship turned abusive and another Blake was certain was killed in its infancy.

_Some people are just meant to be alone._

The thought appeared the day after Beacon, and had not left her mind in all that time. She was destined to be alone. Even the friendship she had formed with Geralt was destined to end far too soon for her liking. She would return home, aid in the defeat of the White Fang, then disappear. It was better that way.

She was shaken from her introspection by Dandelion appearing on the stage. Apparently, she had missed the end of Priscilla’s song, and now the engaged couple were to perform together for the rest of the night.

-0-

Several encores later and the small group entered Priscilla’s room, shutting out the sounds of the still cheering crowd as Geralt closed the door behind him. Blake was slightly startled by the sound of Priscilla’s palm meeting Dandelion’s cheek.

“Three days with not a word, not even a note!” Priscilla shouted.

“I’m sorry.” Dandelion said, true remorse showing on his face, with more than a little worry on his face. “I wasn’t having cold feet, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“I knew that damnit! I just wanted some bloody warning! Instead I wake up to find you had just up and left me on my own when we had a show to play! I had to change the entire set list!” She shouted, still outraged before she took a deep breath, calming herself before she smiled serenely at Dandelion. “I must admit, it was a rather pleasant surprise to see you sitting in that crowd down there. And with guests no less. It’s good to see you Geralt? Who’s your friend?” She said as she turned her gaze to Blake, a warm smile appearing on her face. “You haven’t poked your head out from underneath that hood the since you came in. Take a seat. Relax.” She said, gesturing to the table near her balcony.

The four of them took their seats around the table. Blake pulled down her hood to see that all eyes were on her. “So” Priscilla said with a smile. “What’s your story?”

-0-

“Amazing!” said Priscilla after Blake, with a little aid from Geralt, had finished retelling her story.

“That’s what I thought too! With a little tinkering, this could become a fantastic ballad!” Dandelion added

“What do you mean ‘tinkering’, Dandelion?” Geralt asked knowingly.

“Well, first off, we can’t have a story featuring one of the greatest Koviri legends ever end with the King being killed by his own knight. I think a better ending would have him returning to the stone after he woke up. A burden of responsibility sort of thing. And Mierlayn’s story will have to be changed. Maybe replace her with a human sorcerer. We’d need to rework the name a bit. Merlin maybe?” Dandelion looked around the table, inviting the other’s opinions.

“Don’t you think it should be a cautionary tale?  If you tell the truth, maybe people will wise up, and see that hating anything different doesn’t end well for anybody.” Blake asked the bard, a small bit of hope creeping into her voice.

“I’d be inclined to agree with you, if I had any faith in the intelligence of those bound to hear it. I’m afraid that if we told the truth, it would just give people more excuses to distrust elves. It’s for the best that we don’t add any more fuel to that particular fire.” Dandelion said, sympathy clear on his face.

“Probably for the best.” Geralt interjected. “People always focus on the wrong aspects of Dandelion’s stories. Just look at what he’s written about me.”

“Wait, Dandelion wrote stories about you?” Blake questioned.

“Yeah, and everyone seems to think they’re love stories for some damn reason.”

“People like romance, Geralt. You must admit, your ups and downs with Yennefer are the stuff of legend. It even has the perfect ending, _if_ I ever wanted to end it, that is. The old man, and his old flame, settling down, living a life of peace.”

“I still take contracts, and Yennefer’s become Ciri’s unofficial advisor. We’ve not exactly ‘settled down’.” Geralt said, gesturing to Blake as an example.

“And thank the gods for that! You’re a far better source of ballads than the idiots who pay me write about them.” He said before he grew more serious. “I don’t know what I’d do without you around, old friend.” Geralt smiled warmly and clapped Dandelion on the back.

“You’d be fine. You’ve got Priscilla to keep you out of trouble now.”

“He doesn’t need anyone to keep him out of trouble nowadays. Well, for the most part...” Priscilla muttered.

The four of them went on like that for the rest of the evening, before retiring for the night.

-0-

_It’s all your fault. Why’d you come to Beacon? Didn’t you know you’re meant to be alone?_

Blake shot up from her bed, covered in sweat. After gaining her bearings, realizing she had been dreaming, she bolted out of her chair, opened the balcony, and hopped off the ledge to the streets below, not noticing Geralt’s eyes following her as she did so.

-0-

It took Geralt barely any time to track Blake down. A bit of investigation on the balcony found that Blake had fallen down to the muddy, rain soaked street below. Exiting the inn, Geralt easily followed Blake’s muddy footprints to a back alley where he found the girl sat down, leaning on the wall behind her, and staring intently at the yellow bracelet on her right wrist.

“Interesting trinket. I’ve seen you looking at it before. Where’d you get it?”

Blake made no show that she’d heard Geralt. She just kept staring at the bracelet.

“You alright? Blake?” Geralt asked, trying to project a soothing presence to the girl in front of him. Crouching down in front of her, he opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Blake.

“Do… Do you think there are some people who are just… meant to be alone?”

After a taking a moment to ponder, Geralt replied. “I used too. Back when I started out of the path. Now though... Well, I’m married, raised a girl as my own daughter, and have more than a few friends I keep in touch with.”

“But what if people around you only end up getting hurt because of you.”

“I thought we’d been over this already. What happened wasn’t your fault. What brought this on, anyway?”

“I had a nightmare. I saw my friends back home, all dead, because of me, and Adam, he was there, standing over them, their bodies. His shadow reached out, and became… some kind of monster.”

“Remember how it started?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. That’s odd. I thought people couldn’t remember the start of dreams.”

“In this world they can, under specific circumstances. Most of the time some form of magic’s involved. I’ve had a few dreams like that too. I’m not trying to worry you, but, usually they’re a warning something bad is going to happen.”

“Do you think that Adam is going to kill my friends?”

Geralt looked away from Blake, looking to the clouds and the rain pouring down from them, before looking back to Blake.

“I don’t know. But I do know that every time I’ve had one of those dreams, I managed to deal with whatever it was I saw. Just ask Dandelion, he was there for most of it.”

“Was he dressed as a woman then too?” Blake asked, her tone of voice slightly lighter than before, and her body no longer had the look of a sad kitten that had just seen its mother crushed by a cart.

“Sometimes. Others it was me. And Eskel. And Lambert.”

-0-

A few hours later, after Dandelion and Priscilla had woken up and, after having eaten and purchased provisions, the four companions hired a wagon to take them across the Redanian border. As they sat waiting for the wagon to be loaded, and after a lengthy argument with the dwarven wagon driver about charging for Geralt’s seat despite the fact he’d be riding Roach alongside the carriage, the four of them engaged in idle conversation, Priscilla pestering Blake with questions about her home, and Dandelion and Geralt arguing about an old adventure of theirs.

“It was me who had to pull both our asses out of the fire because _you_ couldn’t talk your way out of it!”

“I’d of handled it just fine if you hadn’t of drawn your sword at the first sign of trouble.”

“He was about to cut your head off with an axe!”

“I know how to duck, Geralt. I’d of been fine.” Dandelion sounded almost like a petulant child.

“You? Knowing when it’s a good idea to keep your head down? Not likely.”

Dandelion chuckled at that, Geralt joining him.

“True” Dandelion said when their chuckling had died down. Casting a glance toward Blake and Priscilla, still conversing amongst themselves, he whispered. “Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been wondering about something”

“No, you may not move in to Corvo Bianco. Yen and I have scarred half the staff as it is.”

 “Tch. of course you have. It not that. It’s just… why take the girl home with you? Why try to help her?”

“She needs to get home. Ciri’s the only way I’m sure she’ll make it in one piece.”

“Are sure that’s all this is about? It’s an awful lot of trouble you’re going through to help a girl you hardly know. Why help her at all?”

“You know why.”

“Yes, I suppose I do. The last time you met someone like her you fell in love and followed her around like a stray dog begging for scraps.” Dandelion then held up him hand, cutting of whatever retort Geralt had come up with.

“Not saying that’s what happened here, but you do have a bit of a soft spot for anyone who is… shall we say not treated kindly by the common rabble. And on the subject of Yen, I wonder how she’ll take the news that you’re bringing home a stray.”

“We still have to tell her about your wedding. I’m hoping she’ll be too focused on that. Besides, like you said, she’s a lot like Yen and I, so she’ll understand.”

“She’s a lot like Yen _was.”_

“Exactly. Before she became a sorceress, Yen was a hunchback. Never really got over the way people treated her. She’ll sympathize, want to help her as much as I do.”

“So that’s what this is about.”

“What?”

“Geralt, you know she has to go home at some point. It wouldn’t do to get too attached.”

“I wouldn’t be helping her get to Ciri if I didn’t know that.”

“You can’t keep her here. I know Ciri and Emhyr are growing… close, but-”

“I’ve got no intention of keeping her here.  And I know what you’re getting at. I’m not looking to adopt her. Girl’s got people back home. Won’t lie though. Ciri’s been… distant lately. Too focused on running the world to spend any time with me and Yen.” Geralt grew quiet for a moment, before speaking in a voice as close to heartbreak as Dandelion had heard from the Witcher. “Wouldn’t be so bad, but… she calls Emhyr ‘Papa’ now. Did you know that?”

“I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“Can’t do anything to help it, Dandelion. Now let’s talk about something else. Anything else.” Before Dandelion could speak, however, the carriage driver cut him off and called out to the group.

“Oi! You lot still wanna head south? Cause it looks to me like you might wannae just sit there with yer thumbs up your arses, let me leave yah behind! C’mon! Let’s get going.

-0-

The cart set out a few moments later, interrupting the Priscilla and Blake’s conversation, and Geralt and Dandelion’s companionable silence. As they made their way out of town, the cart in the lead followed by Geralt on horseback, the three in the in the cart were slowly lulled to sleep by the wagon’s subtle rocking.

Once the awoke, the cart driver announced they were near a small farming village he did business with, and told his passengers they’d be stopping there to trade once they arrived. Within the hour, the village was in sight.

As they neared the small town, its ramshackle huts became visible through the fog, showing a level of disrepair not commonly found, even in the most run down villages Geralt had come across. Just as they reached the center of the town, the cart shuddered and came to a halt, its wheels sinking deep into the mud. Getting off of the cart, the dwarf looked over his cart for a moment before kicking the wheel with all his might.  “Shite! Well, we’re up a creek now, aren’t we?” he lamented before turning to Geralt.

“Oi, Witcher, I need ye to go the local tavern, pay a few strong lads to come out and help haul me cart out. Otherwise you’ll all be trying to get to Novigrad on one horse, and I don’t think y’all are _that_  comfortable with each other.”

Geralt stood looking at the man and held out his hand, as though expecting something. After a minute, the dwarf caved. “Oh all right. Here’s some coin to pay the locals. Dunnae know why I hoped a witcher could show a bit altruism, help a fella out.” He grumbled as he passed Geralt a coin purse, before going back to studying the cart, trying to figure out a way to get it out of the mud.

Geralt and Blake led the group, followed closely by Dandelion and Priscilla, walking hand in hand and talking to each other about the details of the story of Bolesaw. As Geralt entered the tavern, he paused to study the condition of its occupants, who were covered in mud, and extremely malnourished.

 Approaching a table full of the closest the tavern had to muscular men, he dropped the coin pouch on the table in front of them. “Got work for anyone willing to dig a cart out the mud.”

The men sitting round the table looked to each other, almost as if they were conversing, but using nods and knowing smiles instead of words. After a moment, they got up from the table, the oldest among them speaking to Geralt as he did so.

“Aye, we’ll do it, Master Witcher, but… well, we’re not in the best of shape, sir. An extra hand, especially a witcher’s, well, it wouldn’t go amiss.”

Geralt sighed, nodding. “Alright. Blake, come give me a hand. Dandelion, stay here, get a drink. Priscilla, make sure Dandelion doesn’t get himself into trouble.”

“Hey! I resent that!”

Geralt and Blake left the tavern sharing a look of amusement as Dandelion’s aggravated shouting followed them out.

-0-

Geralt and Blake led the group to the cart and began their work, each person giving working as hard as they could, though both Geralt and Blake noticed that some were working their hardest to keep the cart in the mud, rather than dig it up. Alarm bells sounded in their heads as they heard sounds of a scuffle in the direction Dandelion and Priscilla were in. Immediately they dropped what they were doing and rushed back into the tavern. Geralt damn near tore the door off of its hinges when he slammed into it with his shoulder, only to find an empty room, save the barkeep, polishing a mug as though nothing was amiss.

Striding towards the counter, Geralt slammed his fist into the countertop, catching the barkeeper’s attention.

“Bards that were here. What happened to them?”

The man looked round the room, trying to avoid Geralt’s eyes. “The fella in the purple clothes and his lady friend followed you out the door.”

“Take me for a fool? I’m a witcher. I heard something like a scuffle in here. So I’ll ask again. What happened to them?”

“I told youse, they left. Though… said you were a witcher. Wouldn’t happen to be looking for work, would ye? Cause we’ve not coin to pay ye with, but were you to help us out with our problem, we’d be eternally grateful, and well, ye knows the saying: ‘What goes around comes around’. Who knows? Yer friends might just be here when ye get back.”

“You want to hear another saying? ‘Witchers are dangerous and liable to kill without a second thought.’ I’d be wary about holding my friends hostage if I were you. There are easier ways to get my help. Must have some money stowed away, we could have negotiated damnit! You didn’t have to resort to kidnapping.” Geralt said, barely able to restrain himself from punching the man.

“I told ye, we’ve nothing to pay you with! Our village is starving. Baba Yasha only lets outsiders into her woods. Any of us venture there and they’re never seen again. When we saws you approachin’ Master Witcher, we thought ‘Here’s our chance, to get rid of that blasted witch!’” The barkeep replied, dropping the wide eyed innocent act.

“You honestly expected a witcher to muster up enough sympathy to care? Didn’t expect me to just start killing till you told me where they were?” Geralt asked. He hated reinforcing the stereotype of witchers as monsters, but he felt he had little choice here.

“Well, you see, ever since Nilfgaard took over, they’ve been burning that book Monstrum, bout you lot, saying the Empress don’t like lies. If you ain’t the monsters everyone used to say you were, well… we thought you’d want your friends back safe n’ sound. I mean, you can’t be as bad as that book said, if you’ve got a couple of friends like them.”

“And what’s stopping me from just tracking them down and freeing them? Would save me a lot of trouble.”

 “True, ye could just track ‘em down, but my boys and more’n a few lassies even volunteered to guard ‘em with e’rything they got, even their lives if need be. You’d have to kill a lot of people just to free your friends.”

Geralt signed, before looking to Blake. “You up for this?” He asked. Blake nodded her assent.

“Alright. We’ll take the job.”

-0-

Well there’s the latest chapter. Feedback is much appreciated!


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